


Joint Endeavors

by spn1dneedit



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band), Zayn - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Anxiety Attacks, Anxious Zayn, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Zayn, Singer Harry, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, coffee shop owner zayn, lil angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-01 02:44:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14510796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spn1dneedit/pseuds/spn1dneedit
Summary: Zayn owns a cute, hipster coffee shop that hosts open mic night every Friday. Harry is a bit of a local celebrity singer. Harry shows up to Zayn's shop for open mic, and Zayn's gone right away.





	1. Someone New (First Night)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Austinattack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Austinattack/gifts).



> Written for the Prompt: "Zayn works at (or owns/runs) a cool little hipstery coffee shop, and every friday they either have an open mic, or a specific set of performers. It's super cool and hip, popular, etc. Harry starts out on open mic night with his guitar and his pretty voice. Does it a few fridays, and then Zayn asks him if he wants a paid slot on the 2nd friday of every month. Because the customers LIKE harry! He's so good! (and he's cute, as far as Zayn's concerned)  
> So Zayn pays harry fifty bucks every 2nd friday of the month to play for an hour at his coffee shop. He brings in lots of customers on those fridays, so he ups him to every other friday, etc. Eventual relationship building etc. Feel free to add some drama, or not. Could be straight forward fallin' in love. whatever you want. Harry is a little quiet and sweet, his music is soft and nice. a little sad, also, hes gotta write a song about zayn, bc duh."  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone New -Hozier-

Zayn smiles lightly to himself as he wipes down tables, eyes flickering across his cozy, little coffee house. The shop was doing well, way better than anyone, even Zayn, had expected. There were people everywhere, packed into every corner, from the window bench seats in the front to the wide corner booth opposite of the small stage area designated for the popular Friday open-mics.

“This one’s all good.” He nods his head at the group of girls who’d been ready to pounce on the table since they’d seen the last group getting ready to head out. They smile gratefully at him before sliding quickly into each seat, as if there was another flock of people waiting for the same table. Zayn shakes his head slightly, before realizing that was exactly the case.

Of course, Friday nights were always busy, but tonight was especially packed. Hell, there were people standing, clasping their mugs tightly as they tried not to jostle too hard into others.

“You know why we’re so packed tonight?” Zayn asks Doniya, cocking his head towards the dining area, watching as she hands back someone’s change and looks up and out over the crowd, as if it’s the first break she’s had to do so. Judging by the long line she has at the register, Zayn doesn’t doubt it is.

She shakes her head and offers him a small shrug, “No clue. But it’s good, right? We’re busy.” She turns back to the customer with a smile and Zayn gives a small shrug of his own. His oldest sister is right, being busy is a good thing.

“Apparently there’s a local celebrity coming in for open mic.” Walihya brushes past Zayn, carrying a tray of drinks, moving too quickly for him to ask any follow up questions.

Zayn sits back for a moment, admiring the place. A few months ago, when they’d started, The Joint had been a failing coffee shop that Zayn bought with college loan money he’d gotten right before he’d dropped out. The first thing he did with the place was give it a complete makeover: fairy lights, new art made by locals, and a name change.

Now, it was one of the hip places to be, day and night. Teen girls came to support their friends open mic spots. People in their early twenties frequented before and after hitting the club, relishing in the hipster vibe and strong brew. The shops older regulars still loved coming around to read the paper and say hello to the entire Malik family. The shop had been transformed. And he’d done it, they’d done it. Zayn and his sisters had made the place their own and made The Joint perfect.

“Stop smiling to yourself like that, you look like an idiot and you’re gonna scare the guests.” Walihya bumps her hip into Zayn’s lightly, giggling as she fills her tray with the next order of drinks.

“Shut up,” Zayn smiles fondly at her, helping her load the tray, “Hey, what were you talking about earlier, when you said a local celebrity was coming in?” When the last of the drinks are on he takes a step back and looks quizzically at his sister.

Walihya hoists the tray up and starts walking out from behind the bar, motioning for Zayn to follow her, “I heard some girls talking earlier,” she pauses at a table, “hi, are you guys number 46? Great, here we are” Zayn helps r unload the piping mugs carefully, smiling at the customers before following Walihya to the next table, which had the rest of the drinks on the tray.

“Anyway,” she turns to him as they slip back into the back a few minutes later, “there were some girls, on the bench seats near the door, and they said they were here to see someone for open mic because they’d posted on twitter where they’d be. Whatever, that happens all the time, but then I hear a couple guys, table six, the one’s that all ordered black coffee with two caramel shots, talk about being here for the same guy. So I’m like, that’s cool they have lots of friends, but then, that group of hipsters” Zayn’s eyes move across the coffee house, looking at each group she mentions “brought up the same guy! So, I’m pretty sure this guy is like famous, or relatively, anyway.” Her voice gets more excited the more she talks, and Zayn can’t help but get excited with her. A celebrity could really bring in some big business, especially if this crowd is anything to tell by.

“Is he here yet?”

Walihya shakes her head, “I haven’t checked the list recently, but the last time I did he hadn’t signed up yet.”

“What’s his name?”

“Harry Styles. Now move, I need to keep bringing these drinks out before we have a riot. And you need to bus the big booth, so we can get more people in there.” She’s out from behind the bar before Zayn can yell that it is his shop, and he’s the only one who can yell orders at people.

When he’s done wiping down the booth for the next group, Zayn heads over to the stage area. The clipboard with names is almost full already, and they’ve only got another five minutes until the first person goes up. No Harry Styles.

Zayn’s turning to go back to the kitchen when he bumps into someone.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, just loud enough to hear over the loud buzz of the Friday night crowd.

“No worries, is there still room on the list?” The man he bumped into, still standing way too close to Zayn than he likes any stranger to be, asks.

Zayn looks up and nods his head, “Yeah, a couple” he takes a step to the side to let the stranger through, making room for the guitar case he carries with him as well.

As the stranger writes his name down, Zayn takes him in. He’s tall, firm, but no doubt a little lanky. He’s wearing a pair of ultra-skinny black jeans and a plain white tee. Zayn hadn’t seen much of his face before he’d turned around, but he thinks the stranger was fit.

“Oh sorry, were you going to?” the stranger turns back to Zayn, gesturing with the pen attached to the clipboard, and Zayn’s cheeks burn as he shakes his head. Of course, the attractive customer would catch him checking him out.

“Nah dude, you’re good.”

“I’m glad I got here in time, I said I was gonna come but then I got caught up in something and I almost didn’t make it.” Zayn looks up, and the stranger is smiling at him, big and bright, and God, Zayn knows he’s gone. The man has bright green eyes, and dimples, and his hair is pushed back from his forehead in a perfect coif. He’s beautiful.

“Yeah, it’s pretty busy tonight.” Zayn can’t say much else, but the stranger nods and looks around.

“The new owners really fixed this place up, it used to be kind of a dump. It looks totally different now. Better.” Zayn just shrugs, unable to say much when a gorgeous stranger comes up and tells him he likes what he’s done with his own business.

“I’m not much of a coffee fan, but the open mic is cool, and I heard the atmosphere is great.” Before Zayn can respond, Safaa taps the microphone and clears her throat to open up the night.

“I guess I better find a place to sit before my turn,” with another small smile the boy is off, leaving Zayn to stare at his back as he walks away. Before he can stop himself, Zayn turns back to the list to see what the beautiful strangers name is.

Harry Styles. Zayn chuckles a bit at that. Of course, that guy is the local celebrity.

He walks back to the bar after that, to help Doniya and Walihya clean up.

“Well? Was he here yet?” Walihya stops sweeping for a moment, looking expectantly at Zayn.

“Yeah. He’s here.”

“Nice! This is going to be huge for us.” The girls look excitedly between each other, and Zayn nods back at them.

The rest of the night goes on pretty normally, once they’re done cleaning and preparing for the post-open mic rush, they go their reserved seats on the side of the stage to watch the night’s performers.

Closing the café part of the shop during open mic was one of the things everyone had agreed on when they’d started doing it. No one wanted a grinder going on during their short set to make them nervous, and the family loved to watch the acts.

The performers of the night came and went, and Safaa smiled and thanked all of them as they left the stage and Zayn’s heart filled with pride in his youngest sister. Zayn was put off a bit when Safaa first told him she wanted to be the emcee, but seeing her now makes him unbelievably proud.

“Alright guys, it’s that time of night. Our last performer,” both of his sisters straightened up in their chairs, this is what they’d been waiting for all night. “but before that, I’d like to thank all of you for coming out tonight, also thanks in advance for coming again next week! With that, our next, and final, performer is Harry Styles, let’s give ‘em a hand!” The crowd erupted, whistles and claps louder than for any other performer they’d ever had.

Zayn sucks in a quick breath when Harry gets under the spotlight area, his heart beating just a bit faster than it had before.

Harry was hot the first time Zayn had seen him, but now, with the string lights behind him and the spotlight on him, Harry looks incredible. His eyes shine bright, and his jaw is strong, perfect for the kisses Zayn wants to press there.

“Uh yeah, hi, I’m Harry” Harry shuffles a little with his guitar, and the crowd cheers again, Zayn gives a few claps himself. “and I’m gonna start now. Ok.”

Zayn should have prepared himself for this, Harry did bring a large crowd in tonight, but Zayn is still blown away when Harry starts to strum, and then opens his mouth, and is good. Really, really, good. Zayn tries hard not to gape, but Harry is captivating, he rocks slightly as he sings, from the heels of his boots to the toe, pressing his lips right up against the microphone. He sings of heartbreak to a happy beat, and of love in a way that makes Zayn’s heart break. Harry sings about the wrong kind of love in the right kind of way.

 The experience of watching Harry perform is as close to orgasmic as Zayn can get while sitting right between all three of his sisters.

 When Harry finishes, he nods his head once, and takes a step back from the mic. The crowd roars, whistles, cheers, and claps fill the room, twice as loud as the beginning.

Safaa thanks everybody again, welcomes them back for next week, and lets the crowd know that the coffee bar is opening back up in ten minutes.

“We should probably,” Zayn looks at his other two sisters and nods back to the bar, barely holding it together, eyes flickering across the shop, trying to find where Harry’s gone. He’s nowhere in sight, so Zayn just shakes his head disappointedly and walks with his sisters to the bar.

Most people leave after the open mic, but there are always lingerers, mostly regulars who like to stay back and talk with Zayn and his sisters before the overnight people come in.

“Wicked crowd you guys got tonight,” Louis, Zayn’s best friend and super-part-time barista, says to Zayn as he helps him wipe down a booth.

“You don’t have to help you know, you’re not on the clock” Zayn reminds him, putting the rag back into the bucket of soapy water, and moving on to the next dirty table.

Louis shrugs, “Am I ever really on the clock?” Zayn laughs because no, Louis rarely actually clocks in for any shifts he takes, he works for free drinks whenever he comes in and the lion share of the tips.

“Anyway, as I was saying, I’ve never seen that big of a crowd in here. You think it was because of that kid at the end? I thought I saw about half of the girls in here cream themselves by the time he finished.”

“You’re gross,” Zayn laughs, flicking Louis with a bit of the water, who turns at whips Zayn with the rag in his hands. The two collapse together, laughing loudly and knocking shoulders.

“I mean it man, he really had the crowd going, I even saw you over there, mouth wide open and shit.” Louis drops his jaw stupidly in a mock of Zayn and earns himself a smack on the shoulders.

“Shut up, bro”

“You should ask him to come back, maybe he’ll bring in a crowd like this every week.” Louis’s voice is more serious now, he’s still smiling, but in a calculate way, he really does think Harry will be good for business.

Zayn nods, “Yeah, maybe I should.”

Later, when Zayn is lying in bed in the loft above The Joint, he can’t help himself but look Harry up on Instagram. His page is pretty basic, a nice profile picture, a basic ‘live, laugh, love’ bio, and a collection of pictures from other open mics and pictures with friends. Harry has one picture that Zayn takes special note of, he’s leaning against the wall of a building, shirt unbuttoned, exposing the tattoo he has on his chest, and a rainbow painted on each cheek. He’s smiling brightly from ear to ear. It’s captioned: Pride.

Zayn scrolls back up to the top, and hits ‘follow’, not expecting a follow back or anything, Harry has close to fifteen thousand followers and Zayn has 30 family members and the people that work at The Joint.

He turns off his phone after that, but he can’t stop thinking about green eyes and tatted arms. If Zayn jerks himself off three times in the next week to Harry’s Instagram, then that’s his business.


	2. Daft Pretty Boys (Harry's 2nd open mic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry comes back in for another open mic, and Zayn's got a proposition for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daft Pretty Boys -Bad Suns-

Harry doesn’t show up to the next two open mics at The Joint, instead, Zayn sees him on Instagram featured at other bars and coffee shops, always looking as beautiful as he had the night he’d graced the packed corner or Zayn’s place.

Life continues though, until three Fridays have passed and Zayn has given up most of his hope of Harry coming back.

It’s Thursday night, Zayn’s only day off, and he is sitting with Louis and their friend and other part-time worker, Niall in his living room. They’re two joints, five beers, and nine songs of Niall’s ‘chill’ playlist into their guy’s night in. It feels weird sometimes, living right above where he works, like he never actually gets to take a breath and step back from his shop.

“That Harry Styles kid is coming back tomorrow night,” says Louis dismissively, barely looking

“Hm?” Zayn hums a question, hoping to seem aloof even as his heart thumps excitedly in his chest.

“Yeah, he posted about it on his twitter a couple hours ago,”

“You follow him on twitter?” Zayn asks, raising an eyebrow at Louis, who takes a slow swig of his beer and looks quizzically back at Zayn.

“Yeah, he was pretty good, why?”

“I dunno” and he doesn’t, really Zayn doesn’t know why he cared.

“He any good?” Niall asks from where he’s taking up Zayn’s entire couch laying down, leaving Zayn and Louis sprawled on the ground.

Zayn nods, “I’d say he’s one of the best we’ve ever had play during our open mics.” Niall whistles at that, glancing at Louis for confirmation, who nods in response.

“You should try and lock him down.” Niall sits up on the couch, and kicks Louis so he gets up too. “Yeah, you should ask him after he performs tomorrow if he wants a permanent spot at The Joint. If he’s really as good as you guys think, you should have him around as frequently as possible. Pay him like you pay Louis and I, tell him he gets exposure or whatever, win-win.” Louis and Zayn nod at each other, it’s a smart idea and they know it.

Friday, Zayn is jittery all day, Louis, who’s come in for the open mic after seeing how busy they were last time Harry came in, keeps pinching Zayn to ground him. His sisters look at him like he’s sick, but just blame the Early-morning people, figuring they made him try too many of their new drink menu hopefuls.

He can’t help it though, knowing that Harry is coming in again tonight makes Zayn nervous, excited, hopeful, all at once.

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ mess.” Niall comes in, smiling at Zayn before ruffling his hair.

“Fuck off,” but he’s right. Zayn hasn’t stopped moving since he got downstairs almost eight hours ago.

“He’s nervous ‘cause he’s got a big, gay crush on Harry” Louis shouts, laughing loudly, even as Zayn scowls.

“Big bi crush, you mean” Doniya giggles.

“Fired. You guys are all fired.”

“No we aren’t,” Louis smiles, pulling Zayn and Niall under each of his arms, “you looove us too much.”

Zayn ducks out from under Louis and moves behind the bar, “I love them too much,” he gestures at Doniya and Walihya, who are still giggling near the register, “you guys, however, are one-hundred percent disposable.”

“You wound me!” Niall groans, as Louis drops to the ground, clutching at himself and moaning like he’s been shot.

Zayn steps over them both as he heads back to the stockroom to grab extra cups and lids, shaking his head affectionately.

After that, with Louis and Niall, and his girls there, Zayn relaxes. He still watches the door like a hawk for Harry, but, unlike earlier, is actually able to function like a real human being in the interim.

He waits, and watches, and waits and watches some more until it is five minutes to when they are supposed to start, and Zayn finds himself circling the sign-up sheet just as he had done that first week Harry came, and every week after that, just in case.

“Are you actually going to perform this time?” How Harry catches him off guard again is a mystery to Zayn, but he still jumps when he feels crowded once again up against the small stand. Harry is closer than last time too, Zayn can feel his warm breath on his neck, and the flowy material of his shirt brush against his back.

He turns slowly, willing his racing heart to slow and his voice to remain cool, “I’m not a-I don’t- No.” Fuck. This is why Zayn is single. He can never actually talk to people he finds attractive.

Harry just laughs though, not teasing, but genuine, like what Zayn just said was funny. “Saving a spot for me, then?” Zayn loves and hates the smirk playing at Harry’s lips. He knows Zayn wants him, is playing with him.

Zayn decides to play right back, “No, actually, they’re all full for tonight.” Zayn chuckles as he turns around, leaving Harry looking a bit panic stricken, out-right laughing when Harry calls after him,

“That wasn’t funny!” Even though Zayn can hear the smile in his voice.

 The set goes on well, normally, besides the crowd that’s larger than Zayn’s ever seen. When it comes time for Harry, Zayn holds his breath as he gets set up. He sings one of the same ones from the last time, sad lyrics with a happy beat, and it brings a bittersweet smile to Zayn’s face. Harry sings so that Zayn feels like his heart’s been broken in the same way as Harry’s.

Harry’s second song this time is angry. He picks rough notes on the guitar and curls his lips on the happy words, mocking them, while he croons spiteful ones with a resigned smile. Zayn watches as Harry’s neck bulges a little on the higher notes, gazes longingly at the deft fingers plucking seamlessly on the guitar, and licks his lips when Harry turns to where he’s sitting and winks right at Zayn near the end of the song.  Niall elbows Zayn, as if he hadn’t seen what just happened.

“Oh my god, he just…”

“I know what he just did, Niall.” Zayn snips, annoyed that Niall is interrupting the closing seconds of Harry’s last song.

He finishes a few moments later, and everyone around him looks at Zayn. Zayn ignores them all though, watches as Harry packs up, tracking him as he moves off the stage so that Safaa can give her normal end-of-night spiel.

“Go get your man,” Zayn doesn’t even spare a glance towards Louis before he’s up, following Harry. He’s standing next to a few girls, chatting quietly and taking pictures. Zayn almost feels bad about interrupting. Almost.

“Hey,” he says, tapping lightly on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry turns, polite smile turning into a grin when he sees who it is. Zayn could faint.

“Hey.”

“I’m Zayn.”

“Hi, Zayn.”

“You did great, out there. Really incredible.” Harry ruffles his hair and looks up, almost shyly, at Zayn.

“You think?”

Zayn swallows, there is sweat trickling down Harry’s neck and he wants terribly to lick it off. “Um, yeah. That song, the last one, you really got into it.” Zayn feels dumb, unable to look Harry in the eyes, forgetting that he was supposed to be over here to offer Harry a permanent spot on his stage, not to flirt.

“I kind of blew the high notes on that one,” Harry rubs at his neck and his tongue swipes over his lips, Zayn’s throat closes up.

“It added to it, made the whole thing seem more raw, real.”

“You like things raw?” Harry meets Zayn’s eyes and smirks.

“Yeah.” Zayn says, his voice low and sultry. He regrets it immediately after, Harry’s eyes glaze over and Zayn thinks he might get kissed silly.

Before he can lean into Harry though, Zayn sees Louis and Zayn, standing behind Harry, laughing like crazy. It makes Zayn blink, shake his head a bit and steady his shoulders.

Harry notices the change and does the same, but the mischievous glint in his eyes stays put.

“Let me, uh, let me buy you a coffee.” Harry asks, and Zayn shakes his head, remembering he still hasn’t told Harry that he’s not just one of his fans, but that he owns the place. Harry’s smile falters a little, “…A tea?” Zayn startles, realizing that Harry must have thought he was shaking his head at him.

“No, um, I like coffee, I’d like a coffee now actually, but um, I got it.” Harry’s smile brightens again, and Zayn swears to himself he’ll do anything he can to make sure that smile never leaves his face.

They make their way over to the counter, Harry travelling behind Zayn, saying hi to people as they stopped him, but otherwise staying plastered to his back.

Doniya is at the register when they get there, and she looks like she’s trying hard not to laugh, “What can I get for you guys?”

“Just a black for me, and…” Zayn looks back at Harry, smiling as he watches Harry squint up at the menu.

“What should I get? Are you a regular?” Harry whispers into Zayn’s neck.

“Do you like coffee?” Zayn asks back, avoiding eye contact with his eldest sister, who is no doubt grinning at him.

Harry shakes his head, tickling Zayn with the short tufts of hair on the side.

“Mm Mm, I told you last time. Not a fan.”

Zayn turns back to the register, “Tell Saf to make him her drink. She’ll know what I mean.”

“You got it, boss.” She nods and shoos Zayn out of the line, not bothering to punch anything into the register. “Saf, make one of your fruity things and get Zayn a black coffee!”

“You must come here a lot,”

Zayn chuckles softly and shrugs, “I’m here all the time.”

“That must be why I haven’t seen you anywhere else.”

“Hm?” Zayn tilts his head up at Harry.

“You haven’t been at any of my other shows this month, and I figured you were a fan the last time I saw you here. But I guess you’re just a dedicated frequenter of The Joint.” Harry gestures around them, and Zayn smiles sheepishly, one side of his mouth curling up.

“It’s kind of hard not to be when I own the place.” Harry sputters at that, leaning forward in his chair and looking at Zayn, squinting and pouting a bit.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah”

“I can’t believe you let me think you were a fan who had a crush on me, and that you wanted to buy our drinks to impress me.” He’s shaking his head and laughing, and Zayn feels his cheeks and the tips of his ear warming.

“You offered to buy me a drink at my own shop, I couldn’t just let you walk up there and try to pay for them.”

Harry throws his head back and laughs, “So, the girls at the counter know you,”

“My sisters, actually.”

“So then they weren’t just laughing at my inability to choose from the menu?”

“Hardly,” Zayn fiddles with his fingers on the table between him and Harry, “Everyone who works here is friend or family first, constant annoyance second, and employee third.”

“I resent that.” Louis appears next to the table, placing their drinks on the open space.

“You might be an annoyance first, now that I think of it.” Zayn kids.

“You know you love me.” Louis pinches Zayn’s cheek affectionately, laughing when Zayn swats him away and yells at him to do some actual work.

“Like I said, constant annoyance.” Zayn brings his mug to his lips, looks on as Harry takes a sip from the tall glass Louis brought out with Saf’s custom drink. Harry hums appreciatively, closing his eyes and going in for a larger second drink.

“What is in this?” He says when he does, licking the rim of the glass in a way that has Zayn very hot and bothered.

“Um, white tea, lemonade, pear and peach simple syrup and fresh mint. I don’t know how much of each though. Only Saf can make it like that, and she only works bar for a couple hours after Open Mic, so this is pretty much the only time to get it.” Zayn explains, relishing in the way Harry looks when he drinks, eyes rolled back in exaggerated pleasure, little moans and groans that Zayn is sure are just for Zayn’s satisfaction.

The café is slowing down now, the open mic crowd is nearly all gone, and the few stragglers are finishing up their drinks and planning their next move. Zayn always loves this time of night, closing time for most cafés, but for them it’s when they change the playlist on the iPod in the back, and clean unhurriedly and chat with customers, all the things they don’t usually have the time for. Being here, with Harry, watching it happen almost as a customer is a new, wonderful experience.

The night goes on like a movie, Zayn watches his closest friends and family go through their usual routine without him while he sits with a gorgeous musician and talks for what could be just a few minutes, or a couple of hours.

They’ve been talking steadily for a while, flirting and smiling across the table sometimes, exchanging stories and little details about themselves between sips of their drinks others.

Zayn clears his throat, “I’m super grateful for both times you’ve came and performed. Both times you were incredible, and brought in this huge crowd, and I feel like I haven’t really thanked you for that yet. So yeah, thanks, I guess.”

A grin spreads across Harry’s face and Zayn thinks he can see a pink tinge in his cheeks, “No, thank you. The atmosphere here is so great. Really, The Joint is probably the best place I’ve ever done open mic sets.”

“That’s great, yeah. Uh, I was like wondering if you’ be interested in like, having a permanent spot here and stuff.”

Harry looks a bit taken aback, “and stuff?”

Zayn rubs at the back of his neck nervously, the strong rapport they had seemingly vanished in a second, “Yeah, any day of the week that works for you, and I’d pay you. Of course, I’d pay you. And you could come in and do a set like once a month, or however often works I guess. You don’t have to, like, it’s just an offer, but really. You are amazing and good for business,” The permanent smile Harry’s had on his face dims a little as Zayn keeps, making Zayn pick at his nails. Fuck, he’s fucking this up, he can tell.

“What I’m saying is, we love you here, our customers love you here, and I think you’d like it here.” Zayn finishes, finally meeting Harry’s eyes across the table.

“You don’t have to answer now, but just like, think about it. Please.” Zayn feels like he’s begging, and really, he would if Harry asked.

“Um, yeah, I’ll think about it. It sounds like a good opportunity.” Harry speaks almost robotically, and Zayn knows he’s lost him. Shit. “I should probably get going, I’m sure you have work to finish up on.” Harry pulls back his seat from the table and offers Zayn a small smile before he picks up his guitar case and walks out of the door.

He leaves Zayn still sitting at the table, a confused apology bubbling at his lips, and a lump in his throat. What the fuck just happened?

“So, what did he say?” The whole crew gathers around Zayn when he approaches the bar, and he just shrugs at them, shrinking back from the attention.

“No?” Walihya asks, pressing toward Zayn, concern flashing in her eyes.

“He didn’t say no,” He mutters and looks down at his feet.

“He said yes? I knew he would!” Niall bumps his fist with Louis’s excitedly.

“He didn’t say yes either.” Zayn replies bitterly.

“What did he say, then?” Walihya takes a step toward Zayn, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“He said he would think about it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Zayn just wants to leave, feels trapped inside of his own shop. He kicks impatiently at the ground, scuffing his already warn converses.

“That’s probably just code for ‘yes, but I want to keep you waiting to feel like I’m in control.’” Niall reasons, giving Zayn his best encouraging smile. Everyone agrees softly, but Zayn can hear it in their voices, see it in their posture. They know he fucked it up. They’re just not sure how. Zayn’s on the same page as far as that’s concerned though.

“Come on Saf, I’ll drive you home.” Zayn breaks out of the circle and heads to the back to grab his coat. It’s barely past eleven and most Friday nights Safaa stays until 1 or 2 when Walihya goes home, but his youngest sister is Zayn’s best bet for leaving with as few questions asked as possible.

Zayn reemerges from the back room with his coat and Safaa’s to see that everyone has dispersed, much to his relief. Saf is lounging against the window, legs tucked under her on the bench seat. When she looks up at Zayn, he can’t help but smile. His youngest sister, the baby of the family, who helps out around her only brothers shop for below minimum wage and free drinks for her and her friends.

“Come on,” He holds the door open for her once she gets her coat on, nodding as everyone calls out their goodbyes.

The ride back to Zayn’s parent’s is quiet and short, Saf walks home easily on nights when none of the others can give her a ride. Zayn’s mind races with everything he could have done wrong, anything he could have said that possibly offended Harry. Everything had been fine before he’d brought up Harry having a designated time spot at The Joint, and maybe that was the problem, Zayn wonders to himself. Possibly, Harry lied when he said he liked playing there, and the idea of coming back to play even once more, let alone regularly, disgusts him so much he had to leave right away.

“Shut up, Zayn.” Safaa looks at her older brother as he pulls into the driveway.

“What? I didn’t say-“

“You don’t have to say anything. Anyone could tell you’re blaming yourself for whatever happened, or whatever didn’t happen between you and Harry tonight. And it’s really annoying. You probably didn’t even do anything and it’s just your nerves telling you that you fucked up something major when, in reality, everything was fine, perfect, even.” 

“You didn’t see his face,” Zayn scowls out the window, fingers beginning to pick at the steering wheel, “he looked like I hurt his feelings or some shit, and then he just walked out.” Then he says quietly, “What if he never comes back?”

“I don’t want to like make you mad or anything, but literally that’s the worst-case scenario and it isn’t really that bad. So, he doesn’t ever come back? Your little crush fades away, Harry Styles keeps playing other coffee shops and moves on with his own life, and people still come to The Joint because it’s a cute, new hipster-y coffee shop and is really great for Instagram pictures. That’s it. That’s the worst possible thing that can rationally come from this.”

When Zayn thinks about it that way, a little of the tension wears off, he relaxes a little in his seat, “You’re right.”

“I know.” She opens the car door and steps out, but before closing it Safaa sticks her head into the car once more, “We’re going to be fine. I’m sure he’ll be back. He looooooves you.” Zayn can’t help but shake his head as he watches her skip into the house, laughing all the while.

Later, when Zayn is checking his phone one last time before bed, he gets a notification that he’s got a new Instagram follower.

Harry.

Zayn immediately sits up in his bed, turning on the bedside lamp. Harry just followed him back. That’s probably a good sign, right? Who would follow someone you never wanted to see again? Unless… Unless, Zayn thought, Harry followed him to message him and tell him that he didn’t want to come back to The Joint.

Zayn frets for 10 minutes, debating what, if anything, he was going to do, before he got another notification. A message. Fuck.

This could go one of two ways, good or bad, yes or no, Zayn’s hopes fulfilled or crushed.

Zayn holds his breath as he opens the message.

_Hey Zayn, sorry for being weird tonight. You caught me off guard. I’d love to play more often at The Joint. Let me know when you’re free_

Good. Yes. Fulfilled.

Zayn replies faster than he ever has before, _Come in whenever, except Thursday. It’s my day off. Usually during the day, after the morning rush and before the after school one I have free time_

Zayn waits for almost an hour with no reply before succumbing to sleep, it was almost three in the morning and he works a midday shift the next day.

When he wakes up, Zayn has a new message in his inbox. _I’ll be in on Monday :)_


	3. Just a friend (Harry and Zayn's meeting)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Zayn's meeting ft. lots of flirting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a Friend -Biz Markie-

By Monday, Zayn has told everyone about Harry saying yes, and that was all everyone talked about anymore. Would Harry continue to bring in as many customers as he did on open mic nights? How much was Zayn willing to pay him? Is it unethical for Zayn to bone him if he technically works at The Joint (always Louis with the real questions)? No one could stay silent about Harry Styles for more than couple hours, and Zayn was glad to find out that he wasn’t the only one.

Harry finally comes in around two o’clock, and when he does, it’s as if all the air was sucked out of the room to Zayn. He’s only seen Harry in pictures on his phone, or in the dim lighting the café kept on Friday. But here, in the bright middle of the day, it’s like seeing Harry for the first time.

Zayn can’t help his eyes from raking up Harry’s body, from the Chelsea boots to the charcoal jeans to the black V-neck, sunglasses, and hat. He looks incredible and Zayn’s ‘hello’ freezes in his throat, he just stares until Harry approaches him with that grin that never seems to leave his face.

“Hi.” Smooth.

“Hey.” Harry takes off his sunglasses and tucks them into the small pocket on his shirt, “Is it just you here right now?”

Zayn nods, “yeah, Doni’s at lunch but she’ll be back soon. We can talk now, hardly anyone in here.” Harry looks around, there are a few people. A couple sharing a muffin near where the open mic stage is, a student furiously typing into their laptop on a bench/window seat, and an older man reading the newspaper at a two top.

“You want a coffee?” Zayn pours some into a mug for himself and then offers a mug out for Harry, who shakes his head.

“I don’t like coffee.”

“Tea, then?” and Harry nods back, pulling out his sunglasses to fiddle with as he watches Zayn disappear behind the bar and reappear with multiple tea labels.

“English Breakfast? Earl Grey? Chai? Green? White? Peppermint?” He offers them all to Harry, a nervous smile on his lips. God, he thinks, he needs this to go well.

“Whichever.”

“Chai?”

“Perfect.”

They sit down near the counter, so that Zayn can help any customers if he’s needed.

“Look I-“ Zayn starts, just as Harry says,

“I’m really,”

“You first.” Harry motions for Zayn to continue.

“Look I want you to know that I’m extremely grateful you want to do this. I’m sure it’ll be great for both of us. That being said,” Zayn starts, unsure of how Harry will take the next bit, the part Doniya brought up when he originally told her that Harry agreed to play for them, “we can’t pay you a lot. We’re just starting out, and if I could throw a grand at you a week just to play, I promise that I would, but like, I can’t.”

“That’s Okay.” Harry interjects, smiling sheepishly down into his tea, “I wasn’t expecting to get paid a lot doing this anyway. That’s not what this is about for me.”

“Great, I’m glad,” Zayn’s lips curl up in his own smile at Harry, “What I can offer you is a hundred bucks every time you come in, and as many free food or drink items whenever you want, and great company, of course.”

“Okay.” Harry agrees easily, and Zayn is more than a little surprised.

“Okay?” Zayn set the bar low at a hundred dollars, expecting Harry to ask for more.

“Yeah, Okay.” Harry looks confused at Zayn’s confusion, but just brushes it off and takes a sip from his tea. “What I was going to say, is that I’m grateful that you guys want me to come in regularly. I play a lot of different places, and I wasn’t lying when I said this place has a better vibe than ninety percent of those places.”

Zayn tries to say something, anything to acknowledge Harry, but he’s too flattered, flabbergasted to say anything but, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Harry says, good-natured and lovely as he is.

“So, um, which days work for you to come in? I was thinking maybe the first or second Saturday of the month, but like, I’m sure Saturdays are super in demand for you.”

“First Saturday works well, actually,”

“Yeah?” Zayn still can’t believe how easily everything comes with Harry.

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Wow. Awesome. And then, how long are your sets usually? When you like, play for other bars and stuff?”

“It depends,” Harry says, “usually about a half hour to an hour.”

“Whatever is best for you works for us. If I had my way you’d be here all night.” Zayn all but dies of shame as Harry raises an eyebrow at him, a sly grin creeping over his face.

“All night?” Oh. Zayn could feel his mouth open a bit, searching for words. Harry leans back in his chair, taking another slow sip of his tea while Zayn tries to compose himself enough to respond. Just when Zayn thinks he’s okay to speak, Harry’s eyes lock with his and he darts his tongue quickly across the rim of the cup.

Jesus.

Zayn would never catch a break if Harry kept this up.

“As long as you’re willing, of course.” Dear God.

Harry blinks a few times in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected Zayn to play along. He rights himself far quicker than Zayn though, and lowers his voice to a sultry tone.

“And if I want to go all night long?” Zayn hears the genuine interest in Harry’s voice, deeper than the joking air they both tried to maintain, and it turns him on more than he’d ever imagined it would. He feels his cock stir a bit in his jeans, but the tightness in his groin embarrasses Zayn less than the image of Harry’s pouty pink lips around his cock excites him.

“That’s always an option,” Zayn teases. Harry’s about to respond, licking his lips in anticipation when the door behind them opens.

“Z, I’m back with lunch!” Doniya pushes through the door, walking straight past where Harry and Zayn are sitting without even a glance their way. Zayn feels like a glass of cool water has been thrown on him.

He and Harry have both leaned in across the table in their discussion. Zayn was so close that he could see the way Harry’s pupils shrunk back from almost dilation and could almost taste the last of Harry’s tea from his breath.

“Z?” Doni repeats, and both Harry and Zayn’s head snap to where she is.

“Yeah, I’m here.” Zayn calls to her from his and Harry’s spot.

“Oh, I didn’t even see you,” her eyes move between Harry and Zayn, and Zayn knows he’s going to get hounded as soon as Harry leaves. His sister can always spot sexual tension, and the blush spreading across Harry’s cheeks was not helping any case Zayn hoped to make for himself.

“Thanks for coming in. Really. I can’t put into words how excited I am that you’re doing this.” Zayn tries to be professional, make some effort to convince his older sister that nothing was going on before she got there.

Harry nods, and stands, Zayn follows the action, “Me too. I think it’ll be great.”

Zayn and Harry shake hands, and just as Zayn starts to pull his hand from Harry’s, Harry pulls Zayn in close to him and brushes his lips gently across Zayn’s cheek.

“See you Saturday,” Harry whispers into his ear. The breath makes Zayn shiver and the feeling from just a moment ago at the table returns. Zayn mutters his own goodbye when Harry pulls back, still shaken as Harry nods once at Doniya then turns and leaves The Joint.

Zayn dreads turning back around to face his sister, and when he does she has both of her thumbs up at him, and a devilish grin on her face. Zayn is totally screwed.


	4. Rollin' Around (Harry Visits)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry visits The Joint for open mic w/ friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rollin' Around -Nat & Alex Wolff-

Over the next week Zayn is teased mercilessly by everyone at the shop because of Doniya and her big mouth. Louis makes kissy noises whenever anyone brings up Harry and breaks immediately out into his ‘Zayn and Harry sittin’ in a tree’ song. Safaa starts referring to ‘her’ drink as ‘Harry’s’ drink, no matter how many times Zayn tells her not to. Niall comes in early for his Thursday shift, and on the only day Zayn isn’t around to stop him, doodles ‘Z loves harry’ onto every surface he can think of to annoy Zayn. Walihya is the worst of the lot, though, yelling at Zayn to come up to the front because Harry’s there, or Harry’s called and cancelled, or Harry posted an accidental nude on Instagram. Zayn falls for it the first couple of times, but after a while he stops responding to her at all.

On the Friday before Harry’s first scheduled performance at The Joint, Walihya sticks her head into the back room where Zayn’s doing inventory and tells Zayn that Harry is there. Thinking it’s another game, Zayn just shakes his head and moves from the to-go cups to the lids.

She comes back in a few minutes later and frowns at Zayn.

“I’m serious this time. He’s sitting at a table with a couple friends, but I think they’re waiting for someone because no one has been up to order anything yet. I think they’re here to watch open mic.” The story seems so real that Zayn almost moves from his spot on the floor next to the rows and rows of shelves they have in the back. He stays put though, not fully convinced just yet.

“You’re ridiculous,” Is all Walihya says before she lets the door shut again.

“He’s really here, dumbass.” Louis pokes his head intro the stock room and huffs when Zayn still doesn’t get up. “Cross my heart, dude.”

Zayn looks at Louis, sizing him up, “I’ll be out in a minute. I really do need to finish this.” Zayn doesn’t need to finish now, though, he thinks. He does, however, need to take a second to get himself ready to see Harry. Especially after their previous meeting, Zayn isn’t sure where he stands with Harry.

When he finally walks out, running a nervous hand through his hair, it is just as Harry steps up to the counter. He doesn’t see Zayn at first, he just smiles brightly at Walihya as he orders. He orders four drinks before he even takes a breath and checks to make sure that she’s gotten everything. He still hasn’t noticed Zayn, but Zayn has done nothing but notice him.

He’s wearing a suit that takes Zayn’s breath away. It is a pale blue, fitted to Harry beautifully until it flares out at the legs. It gives Zayn a 70’s vibe that he’s only seen in Harry’s Instagram photos. The shirt Harry wears under the suit is sheer white and Zayn can see the two birds Harry has tatted on his chest.

Zayn knows he’s been staring too long when Harry raises his eyes after finishing off his order and meets Zayn’s with a smirk playing at his lips. Zayn raises his hand in a two-finger wave in return, “Hey, Harry”

“You believe me now?” Walihya turns to Zayn, brow raised.

“Believe what?” Harry asks, looking between the siblings.

Zayn feels the sweat start to gather in his palms and wipes them on his jeans.

“Nothing, just some joke she was playing earlier.” His eyes burn a hole into the back of his sister’s head, where Zayn can tell she’s trying to stifle a laugh.

Harry nods and smiles amiably before reaching down into the pocket of his pants and pulling out his wallet. Zayn takes a step forward to tell him that he doesn’t need to pay, no matter how many drinks he’s ordered for his friends, but Walihya beats him to it.

“Put that back, we don’t want your money here. You’re family now, and family drinks and eats free always. Except Pierre, one of the overnight guys, he isn’t allowed food here ever since that day with the scones.” It’s Zayn’s turn to stifle the laugh this time, the memory of exactly what Pierre did with the twelve scones he took home flooding Zayn’s mind.

Walihya laughs outright, pointing at Harry when he just stands, confused, as both of the two giggle at an inside joke he is very obviously not a part of.

“You’ll learn, babe. Eventually you’ll know all the awful stories of this place and the inside jokes. I promise. Just keep coming around, and everything will be brought up at some point.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll have to be here all the time.” Harry jokes back, grinning at Walihya. Zayn could feel his heart pounding again; Harry was the full package. Beautiful, a good singer, a nice person, beautiful, easy going, fun, and good with his sisters, not to mention that he was absolutely gorgeous.

“We’d love that,” then Walihya turns her head and Zayn knows that whatever comes out of his sisters mouth next would embarrass the hell out of him, “wouldn’t we Zayn?”

He was going to get her for that later, but with Harry looking at him expectantly, Zayn could only say “yeah, I love it when you’re here.” Fuck. Zayn all but slaps a hand over his mouth and Walihya smirks at him in his embarrassed shock. Fuck changing pronouns.

Harry either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care about Zayn’s slip up, because within seconds he is thanking the two of them, stuffing the money he would have spent on drinks into the tip jar, and heading back to the table with his friends.

When his drinks are done, Zayn volunteers to bring them out with Louis, saying he has to look for Safaa in the dining area anyway, and remind her that open mic was starting soon so that she could get ready. Really, though, Zayn wants to see Harry again. As he put the finishing touches on the drinks, Zayn thinks about what Harry might say when he approaches the table. Would he say hi to Zayn again? Would he treat Zayn like any other server or busboy, or like a boss? Would he introduce Zayn to his friends or just act as if he wasn’t there? The options run through Zayn’s mind in quick succession, and he truly can’t decide which one he wishes would happen, and which one he would rather die than live through.

He helps load the mugs with Louis, and then they’re off to Harry’s table. As they approach, Zayn hears an all too familiar voice telling an all too familiar story. It’s the story of how and why Zayn bought The Joint. Instead of being told by Louis or Niall, as per usual, the voice he hears is his youngest sister’s.

“-So Zayn is sitting at this very table, registration for next semesters courses open, and the bank has just approved his big ass loan when he realizes he fucking hates college. He exits out of the registration tab, slams down an entire black coffee, walks right up to the old lady who owned this place and says he wants to buy it. Long story short, he buys it, but everyone quits because no one wants to work for a 23-year-old college dropout, so he gets his whole family and all of his friends to work here, and here we are almost two years later.”

“I hate that story,” Zayn says when they get close enough, no edge in his voice but a twinge of embarrassment. The story makes him look like a reckless kid who left college on a whim and was destined to fail.

“Sorry. They asked, though.” Safaa at least has the decency to look a bit ashamed, her smile falls a little and her eyes shift around the table nervously. Her audience doesn’t seem to notice, though. Everyone at the table is still looking at Zayn’s sister adoringly.

Louis cuts in as he and Zayn start placing the drinks on the table, “really the story is much worse and better than that.” The attention turns to him, and Zayn makes brief eye contact with Harry before he too, turns to Louis.

“You forgot the fact that it was Zayn’s last year at the best school in the country, and that he was an English major, so he knew nothing about business. Also, the reason people quit is debatable. I’m pretty sure it had more to do with the slave wages Zayn could, rather couldn’t, afford to pay them all. Pierre was the only real one, and even he switched to nights so that he could make more. But, Zayn did manage to completely turn this place around from the boring ass coffee shop to a vibrant up-and-coming café, so…” The two are finished placing the drinks by the time Louis ends his expansion on Zayn’s coffee house tale.

“Doesn’t make me any less of a stupid kid for buying the place though,” Zayn means the statement as a joke, but feels the truth of it in his chest.

“I think you’re brave.” Harry speaks slowly, eyes twinkling up at Zayn. “It’s, like, amazing how far this place has come, and that you’ve done it at such a young age. Truly, it’s amazing.” There it is again, the fluttering in Zayn’s heart that makes him want to throw caution to the wind and bring Harry in for a kiss by the back of his neck in front of his sister, his best friend, and a table full of Harry’s friends.

“Wow, I, thanks...” Zayn can’t find his words, his lips open and close on air as he searches for something else. The moment passes though. Zayn mutters a soft reminder to Safaa about open mic, then retreats to the counter with Louis.

“That was painful,” Louis teases when they’re behind the bar. Doniya and Walihya are starting to clean up when they get back, so the two boys jump in to help as well.

“Don’t remind me.” Zayn groans as he wipes down the counter.

“Remind you of what?” Doni is right behind Zayn, an eyebrow raised excitedly at potential gossip.

“Harry and Z here were making fools out of themselves over there. It was like they had a competition over who was the worse flirter.”

“Shut up, Louis. It wasn’t like that.”

“Zayn, I wasn’t there and I’m sure it was like that.” Walihya peeks her head out from the stockroom.

“I _was_ there, and it was _definitely_ like that. Harry was being super obvious, but it went straight over Zayn’s head. And then Zayn said like five words and made a fool of himself, but Harry still looked smitten. It was gross, you guys really need to hook up already.” Safaa rolls her eyes at her older brother when he gives her a clear warning look, “You know you want to. And he does too.”

Zayn just huffs and turns back to finish up cleaning, ignoring everyone around him and their inability or unwillingness to whisper when talking about Harry.

Zayn has a crush on Harry. That part is obvious, and Zayn has little shame in it around them most of the time, but when Harry is in the shop, close enough to hear if one of them speaks too loudly, it fills Zayn with anxiety. He can have his private crush on Harry, but Harry shouldn’t know about it, especially since Zayn has little to no chance with him.

Despite what Louis and Safaa said, Zayn still can’t see how anything Harry said sounded like flirting. He just complimented the work Zayn’s done with The Joint. It wasn’t like he offered to suck his dick in the stock room.

Zayn could only dream.

The night continued smoothly, the open mic crowd was lively and supportive, and the acts were all great. It was a great night. Zayn doesn’t see Harry for the rest of the night, besides when he hears Louis yelling at him as he and his friends leave for their night of partying.

“Don’t be a stranger!” Louis calls, bussing tub notched on his hip as he waves.

Safaa follows Harry’s group to the door, and Harry pulls her into a brief hug before he leaves, “See you tomorrow,” she calls, “don’t be late!”


	5. Girls (Harry Stops in for Lunch)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry comes in for lunch w/ the gang, and then they develop a plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Girls -Sing Street-

Over the next month, Harry plays his one set, comes to two open mics, stops in seven times while Zayn is working (two times on Thursdays when he isn’t), and learns too many embarrassing stories to count about everyone who works at The Joint.

Zayn walks in with lunch the Friday before Harry’s second show to find Doniya, Walihya, Louis, Niall, and Harry standing behind the bar, all of them laughing uncontrollably. Zayn freezes at the entrance, watching the scene for a bit before he is noticed, not wanting to interrupt the conversation.

“Why would he do that?” Harry wipes a tear from his eye, and runs a hand through his hair, finally catching his breath.

“No fucking clue, but yeah… After that we all blocked him on snapchat and made sure he never took any scones home ever again.” Doni screws up her face in laughing disgust.

“Fucking Pierre, man.” Niall’s shoulders bounce with laughter as he remembers the story.

“An Austrian freak with a French name and a bakery fetish, who’d’ve thought?” Louis sends the group into another fit of laughter and Zayn moves up to the counter.

“I can’t believe you told that story without me here.” He accuses, fake glaring at the group. Harry grins at Zayn when he sees him, scooting over in the small space so that Zayn has somewhere to place the bags with their lunch. 

“We honestly thought you might have PTSD from that moment. You were the one who saw it first.” Walihya starts to dig into the bags as she laughs. Zayn shakes his head at her and leans back further onto the counter, close enough to Harry that he can smell the cologne he’s wearing and feel the cotton from his t-shirt against his own arm.

There are only a few people in the café right now, so the group grabs the food, and utensils moves to a table. They pass the food around, Thai food from a place around the corner that they’d been fans of since before Zayn had bought The Joint, and there isn’t a second where the conversation slows. The talk like friends who’ve known each other their whole lives, even Harry, who joined them less than a month ago.

Harry sits next to Zayn again at the table, and Zayn can’t stop himself from sneaking glances at Harry all through lunch. He has full lashes and a well-defined jaw that Zayn thinks about pressing soft kisses too, but also painting white with his come. He laughs with his full body and lips pulled back from his teeth in a way that makes Zayn want to never want to say anything serious ever again so that Harry can laugh forever. But really, what Zayn sees as he watches Harry, is that he isn’t an outsider to their group anymore.

Harry has made himself at home in the small amount of time he’s been a part of their little family at The Joint. He sends little jibes at Louis when he sends them first, gets along more than anyone else with all three of the girls, more than Zayn himself sometimes, and Niall called him one of the most genuine people he’s ever met. Harry comes by for Thai food, knows where the spare key is, has heard about Pierre and the scones, and Zayn knows that Harry is as gone for The Joint as Zayn is for him.

“Where else do you play, Harry?” Walihya asks, pointing her chopsticks at Harry.

“I play at a bar down the street, Cruze, the first and second Friday of the month, that’s why I’m not usually free for open mics. Sometimes I do a set at a coffee shop uptown but they’re really particular about what songs I can and can’t play so unless I’m strapped for cash, I try to stay away from them. Otherwise, I just go where ever the wind and the cash take me.” Harry says it all with a smile, bashful at first, but turning cheeky by the end.

 “Look at you, Mr. Harry Styles, ‘go where the cash takes me’ Rockstar in the making, you.” Doniya teases, laughing when Harry’s smile turns bashful again.

“Yeah, when you get big, don’t forget about us little people.” Niall chimes, scooping more chicken onto his plate from one of the larger containers.

“Don’t forget about the little hipster coffee shop that paid me shit but had the best company anyone could ever ask for, you mean?” Zayn chuckles a bit at that, relaxing into the chair and the enjoying witty banter going on around him.

This is home. This is what he left college for. This is what he wanted for this place. This is what he wanted for himself.  

Harry gets up to leave a few minutes later, saying he has a meeting with a friend. He hugs and kisses the girls on the cheek before he ducks out of the shop and winks at Zayn once more before he’s out of the door.

The rest of them are cleaning up when Walihya speaks up from her place at the register, “We should go and see Harry one day.”

“Why would we go to him when he’s here all the time anyway, eating our food and drinking our free drinks?”

“Shut up, Louis. I’m serious, it’ll be fun. One day let’s have the night people come in early and we can all go see one of his shows. Maybe one at Cruze?”

“Yeah, let’s all just go AWOL on our busiest day of the week at our busiest time. Great idea.” Louis scoffs at Walihya, mostly joking but still looking over to Zayn with a look as if he’s saying, ‘is she crazy?’

Zayn just shrugs and tries not to let on that the idea of seeing Harry outside of his own coffee shop excited him more than anything in a while. He imagines Harry on a small stage of a bar, singing the songs Zayn has heard before at open mic and the one set he did. Zayn imagines what it would be like to fully immerse himself in Harry’s performance, to focus on him and only him, no cleaning up after the set, no busing tables he has to get back to, nothing but Harry on stage, taking his breath away.

 “I think it would be fun.” Zayn adds softly, looking at Louis sheepishly.

“Of fucking course you do, Z, I can see your hard-on for him from here.” Niall has his back turned to Zayn when he says it, and Zayn can’t do anything but smile back. No use in denying his crush.

“But, we can’t go on a Friday, we need to be here. Any other day, though, let’s do it.” Walihya and Doniya squeal excitedly and immediately begin making plans for the night while Louis and Niall just shake their heads and grin at the girls.


	6. Helena Beat (Going to see Harry)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes to see Harry perform but Zayn's anxiety gets in the way, ft. Liam!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helena Beat -Foster the People-

It takes a couple of weeks and another performance by Harry at The Joint for them to find a show on a day that works for everyone.

It’s a Thursday, almost three months since the first time Harry had walked into The Joint and the first time Zayn is going to see him outside of his little coffee shop, his safe bubble. He is both over the moon exited and anxious out of his pants.

Over the few weeks since they’d decided to see Harry somewhere else, it felt like the sexual tension between Harry and Zayn had multiplied many times over. Before, there was fumbling words and suggestive phrases under the dim fairy lights. Now, Harry waits to take a sip of his tea until he knows Zayn is watching, sliding his tongue suggestively along the rim every time. Zayn, now almost always places a light hand on the small of Harry’s back when passing behind him and doesn’t remove it until long after it was appropriate to do so. They go back and forth, pushing each other farther and farther. Their flirting pushes the boundaries of what Zayn thinks is appropriate, but he can’t make himself stop, either.

Zayn’s hands sweat when he thinks about it. He has a plan, tonight he’ll make his move on Harry, really make a move.

Zayn’s fumbling with the buttons on his striped button down when he hears the knocking at his door. He just decides to give up, leaving half the buttons undone, not unlike Harry’s own style. Zayn then grabs his keys, wallet, and opens his door.

“God, you take forever to get ready. We’ve been waiting in the car for like fifteen minutes, Saf said we should’ve just left you.” The oldest of Zayn’s sisters is at his door. She’s dressed stylishly, and Zayn’s sure the rest of them are as well. He feels like he’s trying too much and too little with his shirt, ripped black jeans, and leather jacket.

“You look great, dummy, now let’s go. It’s seven thirty and Harry’s on at eight. We gotta go.” She turns on her heel and skips down the stairs without a second look at Zayn. He’s not sure how all of his sisters are able to basically read his mind, but sometimes it seems like they really can.

He turns to lock the door and sees that his hands shake as he does it. This is going to be okay, he tells himself. Everything will be fine. You look good. Harry liked you. You like Harry. His anxiety isn’t usually this bad, but he’s going to a new, crowded place, and has plans to tell Harry how he feels, so yeah, he’s royally fucking stressed.

They arrive at the bar Harry is playing at seven fifty, and Zayn’s nerves haven’t gone down any. It doesn’t help that all three of his sisters are screaming the whole ride there, excited for the show but worried they’ll be late.

Niall and Louis are sat a table when they walk in and they motion the Malik clan over. The bar is packed and Zayn thanks his lucky stars that they’re in a good enough place that they will be able to see and hear Harry perfectly.

“Did you see him, yet?” Safaa asks the two.

Louis nods his head, “we saw him, but I don’t think he saw us. We tried waving, but you know him, Mr. ‘local celebrity’ doesn’t have time for the little people from The Joint when he’s a bigshot everywhere else, too.” He shakes his head in mock solemnity.

Before anyone else has time to respond, a man approaches the stage set up for the performance, Harry close on his heels.

“Thank you all for coming out! We got a great act for you tonight, and judging by all the new faces in here, I’m sure you all know that. So, without any further ado, here is Harry Styles!” The man, an attractive younger guy with a shadow of a beard and a bright smile, waves once, claps Harry on the shoulder, and leaves the stage.

“Hey guys,” Harry sits onto the stool on the stage and squints out into the crowd while his fingers tap nervously on the body of his guitar. His nervous energy matches Zayn’s in a way he hasn’t ever seen Harry while performing. “I’m gonna start the night off with one of my newest songs if that’s okay with you.”

The crowd hoots back its encouragements, and Zayn swears that at least half of it comes from his table. Harry grins bashfully, again something Zayn has never seen while he performs, and starts.

From the very beginning Zayn feels himself encompassed by the new song. The first notes Zayn hears Harry strum slow his racing pulse to a calm thud. When Harry starts to sing though, Zayn has never felt anything like it. He hears the lyrics Harry sings, he feels the raw passion and wanting that drips from his fingertips as Harry plays along on his guitar.

The song is about lust. There is no getting around it, no hiding from or blushing at it. Harry moans lyrics that boil Zayn’s blood and make him imagine the kind of tension Harry must feel toward whomever he wrote the song about.

The song ends, and the audience erupts into roaring claps and wolf whistles. The spell Zayn was under shatters around him. The whole table in up on their feet, like half of the bar, giving the standing ovation to Harry that he totally deserves.

Zayn still watches Harry though, unable to wrench his eyes from the beads of sweat that collect in the dimples of Harry’s collarbone, or the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he chugs from the water bottle next to him. If that’s what Harry was nervous for, there was no need. He had just given a perfect performance and everyone in the bar knew it.

“Zayn, holy shit, that song was about you!” Walihya yanks Zayn’s arm so that he’ll look at her.

“It definitely was not.” Zayn can feel his heartbeat rising again. That song, the brazenness and the genuine want in Harry’s voice, it couldn’t have been about him. Sure, he and Harry flirted, and it got pretty hot sometimes, but that song he just performed was a sex anthem, an ode to sexual tension like nobody knew.

“Zayn, you are my brother and I literally do not register you as any sort of a sexual being, but that song was one-hundred percent about fucking your brains out.” Walihya scrunches her nose up at that, but still nods fervently.

Zayn looks around the table to see that Niall, Louis, Safaa, and Doniya all agree, nodding and grinning.

Well fuck. Maybe Zayn does have a shot with Harry.

Harry performs the rest of his set perfectly as well, flirting with the crowd and eating up every bit of praise they throw at him. Nothing matches the intensity of the first song though, and sometime in the middle, Zayn wonders why Harry would start with that song. If Harry ended the show with that one, it would have left the crowd wild.

“Before my last song I just want to thank you all again for coming out and seeing me. It means a lot. Um, this one is about the first person as the first,” that gets a few whoops from the crowd and Zayn feels three kicks under the table and two elbows to his sides, “so uh, yeah. To the person who can never remember that I don’t like coffee, and still hasn’t figured out that I like him, I guess.”

Well fuck. This song is _definitely_ about him.

The whole table goes wild for that. Louis and Niall stand and hoot while the girls whistle and clap for Harry.

This song is much slower than the first but is an obvious companion. Harry sings about being drawn to someone. He croons about the want he feels. Every word Harry sings makes Zayn feel like the wind is being knocked out of him over and over. Harry sings for the lovers in the room, and for this mystery person that he feels so strongly about. Zayn can feel it, everyone can feel it.

The song ends. Harry and Zayn take a shared, shaky breath in. Zayn almost feels like a voyeur, like Harry maybe wouldn’t have wanted him to see a song that personal.

The bearded man comes back on stage, says a final than you and goodbye, and then he and Harry exit together, just as they’d come on.

“We should go say ‘hi’ before he gets swarmed with girls and tries to make a run for it.” Niall suggests, and the rest of the group agrees. They move out of the table, but Zayn can’t make himself take a step in Harry’s direction.

“I’ll meet you guys in a second, I’m gonna get a drink before the bar line gets too long.” Zayn can feel their stares as he walks away, but he can’t make himself turn around and join them. His head is spinning out of control.

Had those songs been written about him? If they had, would Harry be okay with Zayn having seen them? If they weren’t, was Zayn ready to make any sort of move on Harry knowing he felt that way about someone else?

“You okay?” The announcer guy places a hand on Zayn’s arm and looks down at him, concerned.

Zayn nods, “yeah, I’m fine. Just…” He can’t find the words, so Zayn just falls silent.

“C’mon.” Zayn lets the guy guide him over to the corner of the bar, where more people are leaving than coming in so there are less people.

“You good now?” The man takes a seat across from Zayn and places a glass of water in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s just… Hot in here.” Zayn knows the excuse is lame when he says it, but he hopes the man won’t call him on it.

“Yeah, it was a busier night than most for us. But that’s just what Harry does. He always brings a crowd with him, talented bastard he is.”

Zayn nods in agreement, forgetting that the man doesn’t know that he owns a coffeeshop that Harry also plays at, “same thing with my place. I’ve never seen a crowd as big as the one Harry brings in each time.”

“You work at a bar he plays at or something?” the man asks, leaning back in his chair across from Zayn.

Zayn shakes his head, “No, I uh, I own The Joint across town. It’s a coffeeshop/café type thing. He plays there once a month or so.”

“Nice! I’ve never been there, but maybe I’ll check it out. Harry only plays at the coolest spots, I hear.” He laughs lightly and then smiles at Zayn. “Sorry bro, but I didn’t catch your name.” when he says this, Zayn realizes that he doesn’t know his either.

“’m Zayn.”

“I’m Liam, I manage this place.” Zayn nods at him, but now that he’s calmed down, Zayn can’t help but try and spot Harry or anyone from his group in the crowd. No such luck.

“He’s good, isn’t he?”

“Hm?” Zayn turns back to Liam, finding him smiling knowingly at Zayn.

“He’s a good performer, really gets people going. Definitely worth the 400 dollars.”

“Hm?” Zayn’s eyes widen at that. 400 dollars? Jesus.

“What? Does he charge you more? I heard that he charges that coffee shop uptown 600 because they’re dicks.” Liam raises an eyebrow at Zayn, but Zayn struggles to find the words. 600? For one performance? As if Zayn doesn’t feel bad enough paying him so little, but now that he knows just how much Harry is making from other places makes him wonder why Harry even bothers coming around The Joint. Surely the company and free drinks doesn’t account for the other 300 he would usually get paid.

“He charges us less than that… Way less.” Zayn doesn’t know any other way to put it.

Liam’s eyes widen a bit and he leans in, “how much less?”

“So much less that it’s a little suspicious.”

“Fuck, man… He must really like you. He’s a great guy and all, but when we got him to come in he was pretty set on how much he was worth per performance. We can only really afford him occasionally because of how expensive he is…” Zayn must blanch a little because Liam is quick to add to his statement, “I’m sure it’s a good thing, though. You and your crew must be something special.”

From where Zayn is looking for Harry, he locks eyes with Doniya across the room, and she looks pissed. He sees her grab Niall’s arm and point angrily in his direction, saying something indiscernible to him.

“Speaking of my crew,” Zayn brings a hand up to rub nervously at this hair, “they aren’t too happy with me right now, so it’s probably best if you weren’t here when they get here, ya know?”

“Yeah man, I got you. I got a bar to tend anyway. It was nice talking to you, Zayn. See you around?”

Zayn nods and stands from the table, shaking Liam’s hand firmly, “Yeah bro, see you around.”

Liam leaves just as all five of Zayn’s group get there. They all have varying levels of disappointment and/or anger on their faces. Zayn wants to wretch.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Doniya speaks first, obviously the angriest of them all.

“Here.” Zayn mumbles, hoping they can just drop it and leave. He had just calmed down with Liam, and now he could feel his anxiety rising again, bubbling to the surface.

“No, seriously, Harry wanted to see you before he had to go, but you were nowhere to be seen. Left him hanging and scared the shit out of us. Why would you just leave like that?”

“Doni, it’s not that big of a deal.” Walihya steps in, seeing Zayn start to close down, his breathing coming in short, ragged breaths.

“Sorry, Zayn.” Doniya takes a breath and a step forward towards Zayn, all the anger leaving her face as she looks at her younger brother. “I just know how much you like him, and how much he likes you. It was disappointing that you weren’t there to see him after the show, especially because he was so excited.”

Zayn shrugs, trying not to give away the way he hates himself for not saying anything to Harry tonight. Zayn desperately tries to quiet the invasive thoughts that got him in the first place. It continues all the way home where the girls drop him off and promise to see him tomorrow for open mic.

Zayn doesn’t sleep at night because every time he shuts his eyes he pictures Harry’s bright smile fading away, and he knows it’s his fault.


	7. Friday I'm in Love (Confrontation & Make-up)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry confronts Zayn for what went down last night, and then they kiss and make-out, ehm, make-up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday I'm in Love -The Cure-

Friday, a usually upbeat and happy day for everyone at The Joint, is quiet and dull. Zayn mopes and everyone else walks on eggshells, knowing that he’s one stressor away from a full-blown anxiety attack.

Open mic goes terribly. The acts are awful, the mic goes out halfway through a set and they have to scramble for a new one. A third of the crowd leaves before it’s done, and the other two thirds filter out soon after, few staying to mingle for even a brief amount of time.

It’s one of the worst days Zayn has had in a long time and he just wants it to be over with. As soon as they’re done cleaning, Zayn sends the girls out to take Safaa home and tells them not to bother coming back. When it’s just Zayn, since Niall and Louis are both off, he sits at the register with his face cupped in his hands, willing himself not to cry until the night person comes in and he is safely up in his apartment.

Zayn hears the door open and tries to not let out an audible groan.

“Hey, welcome to- “

“Shut up, Zayn.” Zayn looks up to see Harry across from him, fuming.

“Harry I,” Zayn starts, but Harry cuts him off again.

“I said shut up. I’m really angry and I need to get this out while I’m sober because I’m gonna get really fucked up tonight and maybe do some stupid shit like drunk text you or go home with someone I don’t know and probably won’t like. Before then, though, I need you to know how fucking stupid you are, Zayn Malik.” Zayn looks around the dining area and is beyond relieved to see that there is no one in it. It’s just the two of them, so Zayn braces himself for the worst.

“I like you, Zayn! I have for a long time, too! Three fucking months, since that very first night and I thought you were just a fan with a cute ass and the bone structure of a Greek god. And then you flirted with me the next time I came in and I was like ‘oh, hey! This hot guy likes me’, but fuck that, because nope he just wants me to play at his small, shitty coffee shop and that hurt. But I said yes, took a job for really shit pay because I had a crush on the boss and it was gonna be cool, or whatever.” Zayn can feel his throat tightening and his palms sweating profusely.

“But then I start coming around more often because I honestly thought that if I could insert myself into this place then you would actually fucking notice me as something other than a guy with a guitar and a nice singing voice. And the more I came around the more I fell for you, but not just you! I fell for everybody and everything about this place. You guys made me feel like I belonged, and it was incredible, and I still was over the fucking moon for you, Zayn.” Harry needs to stop, Zayn can’t take it. He doesn’t want to hear about all of the ways he fucked up. He doesn’t want to know that he could have had everything he wanted from Harry if only he wasn’t a fucking pussy. Zayn starts to pick at his hands, opening calluses and peeling back hang nails.

“And you start flirting more and more and here I am thinking we’re getting somewhere, that you might feel the same way… or even close to the same way I do. But then, you pulled that fucking stunt last night. Like, why even come if you didn’t want to see me? Why stay through songs that were obviously about you and then just fucking go like that? What the fuck, Zayn?” If Zayn could focus on anything besides the thunderous sounds of his heart beating, he would have heard the tremble in Harry’s voice, deeper than the mask of rage. Zayn would have seen the tears in Harry’s eyes if he could just get his eyes to focus on something, anything. But he can’t. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t.

“I can’t!” The two words rip through Zayn’s throat in a hoarse cry.

“Harry, I like you too. Since that first night, too. You were just so cool, and you drew people in, and you were sexy and flirty and fun and I’m just a college dropout who got lucky when he bought a coffeeshop. You’re so good, Harry. Too good. Way too fucking good. God, I can’t fucking do this.” Once Zayn says it he feels like a hundred pounds have been lifted from his shoulders, but he’s still being crushed under the weight of his own insecurities. Even if Harry turns around and leaves The Joint right now, Zayn knows that he’s said what he’s been wanting to say in the last three months prior. He also knows that Harry knows exactly how he feels, and he could still walk out and never come back.

Harry looks bewildered, his head tilted to the side and his mouth slightly ajar, “I’m too good? Fuck, Zayn, you’re so hot, and smart and brave, like, what kind of person leaves during their last year of college to pursue a totally different dream? I could never do that. You’re incredible.”

Zayn finally feels almost like himself again, no longer choking or nervous. His breathing slows, and his thoughts are coherent again.

“Is it cool, if I, like, kiss you now?” Harry speaks softly, walking around to the entrance to the bar. He approaches Zayn slowly, taking tentative steps.

“If you didn’t, I’d be really pissed off.” Zayn turns his body towards Harry’s and closes the gap between the two of them.

The cheeky glint in Harry’s eyes comes out again, and right before he presses his lips against Zayn’s he whispers, “Wouldn’t want that.”

When they kiss, the world explodes for Zayn. His whole body feels like it’s on fire. He’s spent months imagining Harry’s lips on his own, and it does not disappoint one bit. Harry opens Zayn’s mouth up with the gentle force of his tongue, deepening their kiss.

Zayn’s hands move from their position at his own sides to cup the back of Harry’s head against his. He filters his hand through the back of Harry’s hair, curling around the short wisps at Harry’s nape.

They kiss for what could be an hour or just a few minutes, breaking apart only when Zayn realizes the overnight people will be there soon. They stay close, even after their mouths leave each other. Zayn’s hands move from Harry’s neck to around his waist, pulling him in tightly.

“I could stay like this forever.” Harry mumbles, tucking Zayn’s head underneath his chin.

“Really?” Zayn takes a step back, smirking at Harry, “I thought that, when the night guys get here, we should go upstairs and…”

Harry smirks back at Zayn, “and do what upstairs?”

“Fuck.”

Zayn can feel the rumble in Harry’s chest as he chuckles, “I like the honesty.”

They stand there like that for the next twenty minutes until the night shift comes in. As soon as they do, Zayn takes Harry by the hand and brings him up the stairs to the apartment.

“I can’t believe you live above from the shop where your whole family works. How do hookups leave? Can you even do the walk of shame without one of your sisters seeing you?” Harry giggles at the thought, and Zayn just smiles at him. God, he can’t believe this is really happening.

The air around them changes once they are in Zayn’s apartment, the lust clouding their minds dissipates into a more laid-back, sensual desire. Zayn feels drunk, as if everything around him is happening in slow motion but his heart beats faster than ever. He and Harry take off their shoes in silence, neither of them saying a word as Zayn leads Harry to his bedroom. The quiet spell stays in place as Zayn shuts the bedroom door behind the two of them.

For a brief moment, the boys stare at each other, each searching for doubt in the other’s eyes. Neither of them sees anything.

It’s Harry who takes the first move. He lifts his black t-shirt over his head and lets it fall to the ground. God, he’s so fucking beautiful Zayn could scream. Harry has tattoos littering his body, swallows on his chest, a moth on his toned stomach, and laurels on his hips. Zayn wants to touch all of them, to run his fingers and tongue over each one of Harry’s tattoos and both of his pert, pink nipples.

“You’re so fucking hot.” Zayn says dumbly, the only words he can make his mouth shape to even try and describe Harry’s indescribable beauty. Harry blushes at Zayn’s words, surprisingly. He tilts his head and squints his eyes at Zayn, as if trying to figure him out.

“You should…” Harry’s voice comes out raspy as he gestures for Zayn to take off his own shirt. Fuck, Zayn had gotten so caught up in looking at Harry he’d almost forgotten what was going on around him.

Zayn’s hands fumble as he reaches for his own shirt, fingers catching twice on the material as he tries to take it off.

“Sorry, I just…” Zayn is beyond embarrassed, he’s shaking, sweaty palmed, and harder than he’s ever been in his life in front of the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, and he’s making a fool of himself.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Harry says, eyeing Zayn hungrily before walking towards him. He places a soft kiss on Zayn’s lips before sliding his hands up and down his sides, slowly pushing the material of Zayn’s shirt up and up until he slides it over Zayn’s head and let’s that too, fall to the floor.

The air changes after that, maybe their bared chests and feelings are realized, maybe they both just get too horny to wait any longer, but both men pounce on each other. Harry brings Zayn in for a passionate kiss that is more tongue and teeth than lips meeting, and Zayn grinds their cocks together so hard that it almost hurts.

“Fuck, let’s get these off,” Zayn flicks open the button on Harry’s jeans, fingers more deft at taking off Harry’s clothes than his own. In turn, Harry sucks and nips at Zayn’s neck and jawline, leaving no skin he can reach untouched.

“Of course, you go commando,” Zayn laughs a bit when he says it, but the thought makes him harder, makes him want to go faster, need to go faster. Harry gets it too, pushing down Zayn’s pants and boxers in one go.

Harry pushes Zayn back onto the bed in one move and climbs on top of him in the next. They kiss furiously and grind together like they’re gagging for each other, like they have been for months.

“Stop, stop.” Harry pushes at Zayn’s hand, which has slid between them to jerk them both off. Zayn looks up at him, confused.

“I want to fuck you.” Harry says confidently, his usual smirk and swagger back, but underneath Zayn hears the question. Does Zayn want this?

“Yeah, fuck Harry, please.” Zayn hasn’t been able to string a full sentence along in front of Harry in all three months of knowing him, and damn if he’s going to start now.

“Lube and condoms?” Harry asks, pulling back to sit gently on his heels.

“Both in the top drawer of the bedside table, now come on!” Zayn knows how desperate he must sound, how wrecked his voice is after only making out and a little dry humping, but Harry has that effect on him.

Harry and Zayn fuck like it’s their first and only time to do so. Harry opens Zayn up with his fingers, agile from practicing guitar, slow but unwavering. They work together perfectly, every time Zayn cries out for more, Harry has already met his needs. They kiss sloppily and Harry licks coyly into Zayn’s mouth as his fingers move steadily in him.

“I’m ready,” Zayn looks into Harry’s eyes when he says it, all lust and admiration, and a dopey squint that looks like the beginning of love.

When Harry finally pushes into Zayn, it feels like his whole world has aligned just right for this to happen. They rock into each other fervently, chasing their own needs but never forgetting the other. It’s perfect.

Zayn comes first, crying out loudly as he spills between Harry and his chests. He urges Harry to keep going, fuck him good, hard, and deep.

When Harry comes, Zayn swears he feels a tear drop onto his shoulder, but Harry buries his face in Zayn’s neck before he can see, coming into the condom as he sucks another mark into Zayn’s neck.

Once they’ve cleaned up, Harry and Zayn lay together in Zayn’s bed. They stay awake with each other through the night, talking and laughing and kissing in-between stories.

Harry tells Zayn that he wants to make it big, of course, but he wouldn’t be angry if he spends his whole life playing bars and coffeeshops, as long as he stays him, and his music stays his own.

Zayn tells Harry that he doesn’t know if The Joint will continue to succeed, or if he and his business were destined to fail, but that he wouldn’t trade the whole experience of it for anything, even if he ends up broke at the end of it all.

Zayn calls into work, and Harry cancels his lunch plans.

They fall asleep as the sun rises.

Harry wakes to the blinding afternoon sun. Zayn isn’t in the room, and his side of the bed is cold. He puts on a pair of Zayn’s boxers and his shirt and pads into the living room. Zayn must hear him come out because he peaks his head out of the kitchen and raises a mug toward Harry, a bright smile on his face.

“Do you like coffee?”


End file.
